


Evolution

by RainbowLookingGlass



Series: la voix, c'est toi [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: BPD Kent Parson, Borderline Personality Disorder, Communication, Fluff, Panic Attacks, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass
Summary: Kent had to relearn his DBT skills to manage his borderline personality disorder. It takes time and a lot of help, but he has plenty of both on his hands.





	Evolution

**Author's Note:**

> I realized in the main fic that we did a lot of demonstrating symptoms of BPD, but didn't do a lot of showing what healthily managing those symptoms looks like. This shows a pretty standard progression of Kent being able to use skills and the level of help he would need executing them at different stages. It takes place over around 6 months, with about three months between each scenario and the skills he's using increasing in difficulty with each one (at least in my opinion and experience, and since Kent is based on me in terms of the disorder, it's safe to say it's the same for him).

Kent stormed into the apartment, not bothering to be quiet or care about how loudly the door slammed. His brain was buzzing with all the things he had to do for George, trying to figure out when the  _ fuck  _ she thought he was going to work all this bullshit into his already stupid schedule. His wrist was aching dully, reminding him of his own fucking stupidity. It was his own goddamn fault he’d been knocked off of first line. The coach probably didn’t trust his crazy ass anymore, and he was going to have to prove he was good enough for this  _ again _ , only maybe it wouldn’t be enough this time and--

 

He really didn’t have time for this. For any of this. I was 1:00 on game day, which meant it was mint tea time, and then he would take a nap, and then he and Jack and Bitty would all go to the rink and win the goddamn game and it would be fine. It would be fucking fine because it had to be.

 

He opened up the mug cabinet and looked around for his lucky mug. It was usually easy to find, oversized and hot pink with simple black text that said “I love you” on it. Jack had gotten it for him as a present before their first game together after the trade, and it was  _ important.  _ And it was fucking missing. Of fucking course.

 

He slammed the cupboard shut, yelling in frustration. It didn't break this time, which somewhere in his mind Kent knew was a good thing, but it served to just make him angrier. He opened another cabinet, banging around and handling the contents roughly. He heard a door open behind him but ignored it, continuing his search. 

 

“Kenny, what's all this about?” a slow, drawling voice all. He grunted but otherwise didn't acknowledge him, slamming that cabinet shut and going to the next one. “Kent, honey, use your words. What's going on?”

 

“It's my  _ mug, _ ” he finally gave in and answered, whirling around to face Bitty. “I can't find my fucking mug and I  _ have  _ to drink mint tea from it on game days or we'll fucking  _ lose _ and it'll be  _ my fault _ and it's fucking  _ gone.”  _ Bitty looked at him carefully for a moment. 

 

“We can figure out the mug, honey. What are you feeling right now?” he asked gently. Kent glared. 

 

“Angry. Frustrated. I don't know,” he answered shortly. Bitty nodded. 

 

“And what does that make you want to do?”

 

“Scream. Hit things. Break things. Curl up in bed and never come out.” 

 

“So what are you going to do?” irritation shot through Kent as he realized what Bitty was doing. He fucking hated having to use skills, hated it more when he couldn’t do it on his own and needed Jack or Bitty to talk him through it. Suddenly his anger focus directly onto Bitty. 

 

“Break your pie pan,” he said, without any really conviction. Bitty sighed. 

 

“Try again,” he said patiently. Kent glared harder, wanting desperately to pick a fight or to actually go through with what he’d said, but squashed the urges down. He started mentally going over the list of approved “opposite action” activities he and his therapist had been coming up with, trying to choose the one that was least like what he wanted to do. 

 

“I'm going for a walk. A slow one, down by the water,” he said, somewhat defeated. Bitty glanced at his watch and nodded. 

 

“We have about two hours until nap time, that should be enough. Do you want to go alone or do you want some company?” Kent considered. 

 

“Will you come with me?” he asked hesitantly. Bitty smiled and nodded. 

 

“Of course, sweetheart. Let me go get a sweater, it's getting nippy out there.” They each grabbed jackets and keys, Bitty calling to Jack where they were going before they headed out the door. They walked to the river in silence, occasionally brushing up against each other. The air was chilly and crisp, the leaves on the trees a multitude of bright colors. Kent breathed deeply, trying to just focus on everything around him and remember why fall was his favorite season. 

 

They were about half a mile down the path before either spoke. “Wanna tell me what happened?” Bitty asked, taking Kent's hand. Kent sighed. He really didn't, but he also knew he wasn't getting out of it. 

 

“First of all, I'm sorry. For yelling and banging things and for saying I was going to break your pie dish. I wasn't going to, I just wanted to make you mad at me, and I'll try not to do that anymore,” he said. Bitty smiled softly. 

 

“Thank you for apologizing, I accept. Can you tell me what made you so angry?” he asked. Kent shrugged. 

 

“It was a lot of things put together. I talked to coach and George after skate today. Since I'm still healing he's putting me on third line tonight so I don't overdo myself, which I get but it also feels like he's punishing me. He said we'll see how this game goes and if everything is fine we can talk about being first line again next game. Then George said she wants me involved in more media stuff and gave me a list of upcoming events I can sign up for, and I know I don't need to do all of them, but I also don't know how many is enough and I just got really overwhelmed. Then I came home and couldn't find my mug and I kinda snapped, I guess,” he explained. Bitty hummed in consideration. 

 

“Well, I imagine the fact you haven't been sleeping well and that Jack has been sleeping with me didn't help. It was a lot at once for you to process. I know you know the doctor is a bit iffy on how well your wrist will hold up, so third line is good for you. You'll still be just as important to the game. I have a media thing coming up at the wild animal shelter with Marty and Snowy, come with us to that to start off so you're not as nervous, and ask George for a set number of events to attend. Then Jack and I can help you choose which ones. And I'm pretty sure I know where your mug is,” he smiled up at Kent, eyes bright. “Good?”

 

“Yeah, good,” Kent felt relief spread through him. He smiled back at Bitty, squeezing his hand. “Let's head back. I should call Charlotte and tell her about this, then you can show me where my mug is before nap time. I swear I'll be able to do this by myself eventually, Bits.” They turned around, heading back the way they came. 

 

“I know, honey. Relearning the skills and applying them again is gonna take a little time. I have no doubt you can do it, and until then you've got us to help you out.” Kent hummed, wishing he could kiss his boyfriend right then and there. He settled for bumping Bitty’s shoulder with his own.

 

“Love you, Bits,” he murmured. Bitty beamed up at him. 

 

“Love you too, Kenny,” he responded easily, bumping him back. They let silence settle, just enjoying each other’s presence and the the gorgeous view of the water as they headed back to their apartment together. 

 

***

 

He’d been mulling it over for about an hour when Jack found him. He kissed Kent gently on his cheek and rubbed small circles into his back. “What’s going on? You look worried,” Jack asked gently. Kent sighed.

 

“It doesn’t feel like it should be a big deal? But last week when I was having trouble getting out of bed and functioning, Bitty kept mother henning me and coddling me and trying to do everything for me. Which I get why, he’s like that, and I appreciate it. But also, that’s not good for me and it really irritated me. I can’t hurt him, but I don’t want him to act like that when it happens again, and I keep going in circles with it,” he explained, slightly huffy. He wasn’t angry with Bitty, but he was getting fed up with the situation and just wanted to let it go. He told Jack as much, and Jack gave a little smile.

 

“You tried that with me in the beginning, remember? It didn’t go well then, and it won’t go well now either. Why don’t you call your therapist? I know you’ve been hesitant to ask her help, but this seems like a good opportunity for it,” Jack suggested. 

 

“I don’t want to, though. I want to handle it, and do it myself, and prove I can,” Kent whined a bit, grabbing Jack’s free hand and playing with it.

 

“You’re not supposed to do it alone, though. You have help, and we want and expect you to use it. I know you want to do it on your own, and I’m glad you want to be independent. Just don’t hurt yourself more because you don’t want to ask for help, eh?” Jack kissed him once more on the temple before getting up, claiming he needed to go make some calls. Kent watched him go, contemplated if he should talk to Bitty or not for another few minutes, then finally sighed and took out his phone. It rang three times before his therapist picked up.

 

It only took a minute for Kent to explain the situation, his therapist quiet on the other end. She stayed quiet for a few seconds when Kent was done before she started talking. “First of all, I’m glad you called. This sounds like a tricky situation, and I’m really glad you’re asking for help with this. I think it would probably be best if we wrote out a DEAR MAN script, what do you think?” Kent agreed and went into the office to get a notebook and pen. With the help of his therapist, he wrote out all the steps.

 

_ Describe: Last week, when I was depressed, you tried to do a lot for me. Things like make me food and bringing it to bed, making calls for me, bringing me my laptop and Kit. _

_ Express: I appreciated it, I know you were trying to help as best you could. I’m worried that if you do those things for me, it could make the depression go on longer and make it hard for me to function through it. _

_ Affirm: When I get depressed, could you please encourage me to do those things on my own, or if I’m doing really badly call my therapist and talk with me and her to figure out what I can do and what I need help with? _

_ Reinforce: I think that will ultimately be most helpful to me, and will help me be the best boyfriend to you that I can be even while depressed. _

 

_ Mindful: Stay on task. Deliver DEAR portion. Keep repeating if necessary. _

_ Act confident: Good posture, eye contact. Try not to cry. _

_ Negotiate: Figure out specific things Bitty can do that will make him feel helpful without interfering with recovery. _

 

Kent practiced, delivering the small speech as he would to Bitty. His therapist commended him for it. “Good job, Kent. I think this is really solid. When can you talk to Bitty?” Kent looked up at the clock.

 

“Uh, he should be home any time. I could talk to him then, if he doesn’t seem to tired,” Kent suggested.

 

“Perfect. Call or text later to let me know how it goes. Have a good night, Kent, good job with the skill.” They hung up, and immediately anxiety settled into his chest. He began tapping out a rhythm on the desk, focusing on breathing deeply the way he’d practiced. Only a few minutes later, he heard the door open. He stood up quickly enough to nearly tip the chair over, all but running out of the room to greet Bitty. He found him in the kitchen, making a sandwich, his face brightening when he saw Kent.

 

“Hey honey, you want one?” he asked, holding up the slice of bread he was holding. Kent declined, instead coming over to hug Bitty and give him a kiss. He practically draped himself over Bitty as he worked, laughing when Bitty rolled his eyes. It wasn’t till they were seated at the table and Bitty was nearly halfway through his sandwich that Kent spoke up.

 

“So uh, there was something I wanted to talk about. Nothing bad, just something I thought was important. I uh…” Kent’s mind suddenly blanked out. He couldn’t remember a thing he had planned on saying. “Um. Can I go get my script? I promise this isn’t anything bad, my brain just… hasn’t been cooperating,” he asked nervously.

 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be right here,” Bitty replied calmly. Kent went and got the script, and with the paper in front of him he managed to deliver the speech perfectly. Bitty listened attentively, nodding through it, and thought for a minute when Kent finished. “Thank you for telling me, and I’m sorry for making things more difficult for you by accident. Is there anything I can do specifically for you when you are depressed, though? I’m afraid I’ll feel helpless, watching you struggle that way, and it’ll make it hard not to intervene if I have nothing to do,” Bitty explained. Kent had to think about it for a minute.

 

“Could you cook for me? I usually just don’t have the energy to cook. I live on take out and whatever Jack makes for me, usually, but he’s out of the apartment a lot so that makes it hard. If you could get me out of bed and try to give me simple tasks to do but do the bulk of the cooking, that would help a lot. And maybe at night when I’m too tired, keeping me out in the living room and holding me and talking to me could help my mood a lot,” Kent said. Bitty beamed at him.

 

“I can absolutely do that. Thank you, I’ll know from now on. And I’m proud of you for telling me so nicely, I appreciated that a lot,” he said, taking Kent’s hand. Kent felt his face heat up a bit.

 

“I uh, I talked to my therapist about it. It was hard to organize my thoughts and she helped,” Kent admitted. Bitty kissed him on the cheek.

 

“Well I’m proud of you for asking her for help, then. I’m going to bed now, I’m exhausted. See you in the morning, honey, I love you.” Bitty gave him a chaste kiss and walked off, leaving Kent alone at the table. He took out his phone and started off toward the bedroom to update both his therapist and Jack on how well it went.

 

***

 

Kent was pacing the living room, tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t sure how it got so out of control. Jack had snapped at him, and Kent had snapped back, and somehow it had turned into screaming, which had turned into Kent saying he should just leave Jack alone forever if he was that terrible, and Jack had told him maybe he should and--

 

They hadn’t had a fight like this in years. Not since they first reconnected. 

 

Kent’s mind was going a mile a minute. He had fucked up so badly. So badly. He should’ve helped Jack, not made it worse. Bitty was in Georgia, and he was going to come home and side with Jack, and Jack already wanted him to leave, and Jack was probably going to make him leave now, Jack didn’t love him anymore, Jack hated him and would never love him again, oh god he had ruined everything with Jack and he couldn’t fix it, he couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t--

 

He cut off his thought process before he finished the thought. He realized he was full on sobbing, chest heaving as he gasped for air. His entire body was shaking and he was having trouble holding onto any kind of rationality. He managed to stumble into the kitchen, something in the back of his mind telling him he needed to calm down or he would do something he could regret. He found one of Bitty’s mixing bowls out on the counter and put it in the sink, filling it with cold water as he wept and struggled for breath. When it was mostly full he sat it on the counter, took as deep a breath as he could manage, and put his face in the water. The cold shocked him, and it took him a second to remember to count. He managed to get to 15 before he was forced to come up, gasping from holding his breath but finding his head much clearer, his breath coming back to him much more easily. He settled into a chair, pacing his breathing, focusing on that until he felt as settled as he thought he could be. He was still distraught, and terrified, but he at least felt he could trust himself not to do anything stupid or reckless, and that was good enough for the time being.

 

He tip toed back to their room, opening the door slowly. He found Jack laying on his back on the bed, his eyes red rimmed but open. Kent walked all the way into the room and stood by the bed, feeling slightly awkward and unsure of himself.

 

“I’m sorry I snapped back at you and picked the fight. I know something has to be wrong. Can we talk about it?” Kent asked tentatively. Jack sighed, but it didn’t sound annoyed, just tired.

 

“Can we talk about it in depth in the morning? I’m sorry for snapping at you in the first place. My anxiety was high, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry for it. And I will explain, I’m just exhausted. Sleep with me here tonight?” Jack asked. Kent nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes again. He wasn’t sure if it was from relief, or residual fear, or if he was just overwhelmed, but Jack wordlessly held out his arms. Kent crawled into bed, allowing himself to be wrapped in Jack’s embrace. Jack hummed the tune of a French song his mom had sang to him as a child, a tune that served to soothe both himself and Kent now, as they slowly dropped off to sleep together.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to know more about BPD/DBT/what skills Kent is using and why, feel free to message me on tumblr at thesegayhockeynerds or leave a comment!


End file.
